While much of the post-Emmys chatter has revolved around whether or not Homeland deserved to beat Mad Men, one thing is beyond doubt. As far as comedy is concerned, Modern Family, winner of four awards last night – outstanding comedy series, outstanding supporting actor, outstanding supporting actress and outstanding direction – is by far the best mainstream sitcom currently on television.

For those yet to see an episode, Modern Family follows the lives of the Pritchett family – patriarch Jay (remarried to a voluptuous, much younger Colombian woman), brother Mitchell (who adopted a Vietnamese baby with his boyfriend) and sister Claire (married to Phil and mother of three children) – as their daily mishaps are ostensibly recorded by a European documentary crew.

It sounds a rather flimsy premise but Modern Family has got two huge things going for it: its cast and its ability to vary tone. In any given episode, you're likely to find darkness (a supporting character died recently), stupidity (Phil and his son Luke's hunt for gold under their house), complicated social commentary (Jay's continuing struggle to accept his gay son), impressively baroque slapstick (almost every episode contains at least one elaborately choreographed pratfall) and, because it's an American sitcom, slightly rubbish endings where everybody learns an important lesson and then hugs.

Like Arrested Development before it, Modern Family has an ensemble so large and talented that it's almost impossible to identify a break-out star. Whenever Ty Burrell's Phil, a Tiggerish sitcom buffoon in the classic mould, looks in danger of stealing the show, Eric Stonestreet's Cameron, Julie Bowen's Claire or Rico Rodriguez's Manny – or even the Vietnamese toddler – will put in a barnstormer of a performance and level out the field.

There are signs that the ensemble might also be the key to Modern Family's undoing, in that trying to give 10 main characters something meaningful to do in a single 22-minute episode without repetition or reducing anyone to a stereotype has sometimes been a struggle. But when it works well, there's nothing to touch it. Often the best Modern Family episodes are the ones where three disparate storylines coalesce at the end, such as Halloween from the second series or Fizbo from the first.

Of course, it helps that Modern Family doesn't really have much in the way of competition. There hasn't been a convincing American family sitcom since Everybody Loves Raymond, and the rest of the current crop is either years past its prime (Two and a Half Men, The Office, 30 Rock), too niche to match Modern Family's broad appeal (Community, New Girl) or the single worst thing ever to be put on a television in the history of the medium (2 Broke Girls).

But even against sturdier opposition, Modern Family would manage to hold its own. It might not last much longer – half the cast are children, so it might succumb to Outnumbered syndrome and get less funny with every passing series – so we should revel in it while we can. Its Emmy wins were absolutely deserved.